


Head-On Collision

by kylefisher200



Category: Fifty Shades of Grey - All Media Types
Genre: Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Minor Violence, Spitefic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24043468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kylefisher200/pseuds/kylefisher200
Summary: When Christian comes over to spend the night with Ana in Chapter 16, Katherine Kavanagh does not, in fact, disappear into the ether so that they can talk without interruption. Instead she listens in, hoping to get an insight on their relationship. She gets more than that.
Kudos: 35





	Head-On Collision

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gehayi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gehayi/gifts), [DasMervin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DasMervin/gifts).



I don’t understand why Ana won’t let me throw this bastard out on his ass, but I’m sure as hell not going to leave him alone with her, not after all that he’s done. My hands clench into fists, nail digging into my palms, as I give him one last look that I wish to fuck would just set him on fire.

“You’d better watch your step, Grey,” I say at him, trying to keep myself from shouting. He doesn’t look impressed – the fucker- and instead smirks at me. Smirks! Like he’s just barely amused by me blowing my top here, what a condescending- take a deep breath, Kate.

I make a brief circuit around the apartment, doing breathing exercises to get a hold of myself. Four in, hold seven, out eight, you got this. I come to a rest by the doorframe of Ana’s bedroom, leaning my back against the side of it so that I could hear while still being out of sight. She’s been positively cagey since she met him, and if I have to spy a little in order to learn about what’s going on, then I’m damn well going to.

“-rather you didn’t do it again,” Ana is saying quietly when I tune in. She’s always quiet these days, and she wasn’t the most outgoing person to begin with. It’s like she’s just regressed into that shell of hers that I had spent the last four years digging her out of.

“You weren’t _supposed_ to like it, Anastasia.“ She prefers being called **Ana** you piece of-

“Then why do you?” Good girl, Ana. Be strong. Be confident. Don’t take his shit, don’t take his attitude. He’s the one that came here, you are more than within your rights to want answers. And I want them, too.

“You really want to know?” He sounds almost disinterested. I imagine that to a man as wealthy as he claims to be, his own motivations shouldn’t matter, they should just be obeyed. I imagine that he isn’t used to someone standing up and asking him why he is the way he is, but it seems like she’s been that sort of off-putting force for him. If he didn’t cause her to come home crying nine times out of ten I might celebrate that sort of relationship drive. But he has. And I don’t.

“Oh, trust me. I’m fascinated.” Inwardly I cheer. Sarcasm was a hard trait to get into her head, but I’m glad to hear it paying off. Grey deserves nothing less than constant derision and mocking, so if she wants to roll her eyes and spit ridicule into his stupid face, then I’m all for it.

I hear the bed creak, and in the silence that follows I can just nearly make out her swallowing.

“Careful,” his voice is cold, almost arctic. With just one word I can practically feel the temperature in the room falling, and I tense. There had been an argument going on, for sure, but it was one that I’m sure could be solved with a bit of communication. But now…this wasn’t an argument anymore. That was a warning, and the malice contained within it puts me on edge. I can feel my scalp prickling. I wipe my sweaty palms against my jeans and nudge my ear closer. What comes next is so quiet that I almost miss it.

“Are you going to hit me again?”

My stomach drops, and my heart goes with it. I feel empty for a minute, freefalling into an abyss. Ana was never a very physical woman, nor was she a particularly feisty one. Not quite a doormat, but someone that would rather just not fight at all if she didn’t have to, because she cared about people and didn’t want to see anybody hurt. Now she was hurting, and I hadn’t seen it. I had seen her crying, sure, and I had done my best to comfort her, but the heart of the issue had continued walking around and striking when alone. Continued demanding more of her time. Continued making money and flaunting it whenever he got the chance. I hadn’t stopped it from escalating, because I knew, I _knew_ that an innocent girl like her would get swept up in the swooning romance even if I had hoped otherwise. I would have been fine if that was all it was, but it wasn’t. It clearly wasn’t.

I only return when my eyes sting, unbidden, by the flow of tears. I cup my hand over my mouth to keep from sobbing too loudly, even as I use the other to fumble my phone out of its pocket and pull up a recorder. I hit the red button and slowly sink to the floor, taking all of my shame and dignity as a friend with me.

“No. Not tonight.” Which means that it hasn’t just been a one-time-thing. Which means that billionaire entrepreneur Christian fucking Grey has been **beating** her. Which means, I have probable cause. My sorrow is pushed aside by the flame lit within me. Suddenly, in the midst of my fire, everything clicks into place. The nervousness, the slow pushing away, the constant crying, the inability to tell me a DAMN thing. I don’t know where. I don’t know when, but he got his hooks into her something fierce, and he is not letting go. This…PARASITE has been feeding on MY friend, and she has been so protective of her emotions that she wouldn’t let anyone know.

“I shall punish you, and you will learn to behave the way I desire. I enjoy punishing you. I’ve wanted to spank you since you asked me if I was gay.”

I can feel a switch in my brain being flipped. I smile. I know exactly what to do now.

I drop my phone lightly onto the floor, still recording, stalk across the apartment to the closet, and start digging. Somewhere in here is her salvation, somewhere is what I need to stop whatever the fuck is going on. I dig, tossing aside boxes of old homework and schoolbooks, random clothes, jackets that had fallen from their hangers, until my hand grasps wood. I grip the knob and pull, nearly falling out with my prize in hand, before standing straight and hefting it to eye level. A Louisville Slugger. Just over three pounds of solid wood, given as a gift from Ray when Ana first got into college in case she needed something to ward off creeps, and just as luck would have it there was finally a creep that needed warding. I give it an experimental swing and, satisfied, slink back to the bedroom. His body is still standing in the doorway, arms crossed like the arrogant slime he is.

“So it’s _not_ the pain you’re putting me through?”

“A bit, to see if you can take it but that’s not the whole reason. It’s the fact that you are mine to do with as I see fit – ultimate control over someone else. And it turns me on. Big time, Anasta-“

The bat connects with his head with what must be the most satisfying _crack_ I’ve ever heard in my life.

“ ** _KATE!_** ” Her voice is shrill, screaming, but I can’t say that I care much. Not when I can see his sleazy face crumpled in shock like a picture in my mind, not when I can feel the rush of adrenaline and joy singing in my veins, not when I can feel the tension that had set upon my shoulders since I met him bleeding away.

Grey’s head bounces against the doorframe. While not as great as the first time, this _crack_ takes a close second. He collapses like his spine’s been removed – maybe I would give that a few whacks next just to replicate that- and I get a good look at my friend. Her hands are around her mouth in shock, skin pale, and tear tracks staining her pretty face. Her eyes are wide, almost popping out of her head, and flicking between he and I.

“You okay, hun?” the affectionate term slipping from my lips before I can even think about it.

“No! Nonononono, what did you just do?!?”

I step over his limp body into the bedroom proper, holding her gaze, and say very simply, “He hit you. So I hit him.”

She goes slack, hands dropping to her sides, mouth hanging open. I can see her breasts heaving beneath her shirt as her breath quickens faster and faster.

“You…you can’t just _do_ that, Kate! You attacked, no, you _assaulted_ him! You could get in big trouble for this!”

“He ‘assaulted’ you first.”

“He did not! He would never-“

“Then why did you ask if he was going to hit you _again_?”

“I can’t- there was a- he had me- it’s-“

“It’s _what_ , Ana?”

“It’s complicated!”

“Then explain it to me.”

From behind me I hear a groan and, “It’s called a _kink_ , you ignorant-!” I whirl around, brandishing the bat towards Grey. He seems to have recovered from the homerun slam I gave his brain, and was struggling to get up, leaning against the wall for support. His face was twisted with rage, eyes dark, growling, “You don’t get to judge what I do in the bedroom!”

“I do when it involves _her_!” I point the end of the bat towards Ana, who had gone silent. “I do when she comes home crying every time she sees you! I do when you two talk about hitting her! I do when whatever the fuck you’re doing in the bedroom is _scaring_ her!”

“We had a simple written agreement before we started things.” His voice is calm now, despite his face. He’s trying to mitigate the damage, bring things down. “It is all professional, law-abiding, safe, consensual fun.”

“Then why did you HIT her?”

“To punish her!”

“Because she called you _gay_?”

“YES!”

“Newsflash, Grey! Those were MY questions she was asking! Not hers!”

“That does not matter! She is MY submissive and she will do _whatever_ **I** **_SAY_**!”

“Submi- you took an innocent girl like her and conned her into a BDSM set!?”

“I did not con any _one_ into any _thing_! She agreed to it!”

“Under _no_ duress from you, I’m sure!”

“I…didn’t sign it.” We both stop and turn to look at Ana, whose head is ducked as she picks fuzz from the blanket. “The legal agreement thing, I didn’t sign anything. Just verbally.”

“I want to see this agreement.”

“FINE. Now, get out of my way, put the bat down, leave us to _talk_ , and I _might_ not have you charged with assault and battery!”

I stand still for a moment, trying to suss out if my family’s lawyers could beat his. There was a chance…but all I really had was one recording of my friend being hit, my saying that he busted in through the door without permission, and a handful of circumstantial evidence. Grey now had bruises and a concussion that he could lay at my feet. Shit. I went too far with this, I let my emotions get the better of me. I should have hung back, tried to gather more before confronting him. Dammit, I might have just screwed myself over.

I clench my jaw and shoulder past him.

“Thank God she’s gone. Now, Anastasia, you and I are going to have a conversation.” It’s hard to ignore the menace in his voice, but I try my best. Going psycho on him won’t help things at this point. I’m going to need the police on speed dial if anything goes further south.

“Is it going to be the same ‘conversation’ as last time?” Despite her bravery in that question, she sounds petrified. Last time? Last time he came over was back in Portland when he came waltzing out of her room half-naked. My understanding was that they had some wicked awesome sex. Why would she be scared of that happening agai-

I stop. I turn.

“She didn’t let you in last time you came over, did she?”

“What? Of course she did.”

“Then why were you here?

“She had sent me an email ending things. I came over to…dissuade her.” He turns towards me, smiling smarmily, that unshakable fucking ego sure that everything will go his way. “She let me in while you were in the shower, we talked things over, and had some… _fun_.”

I look over at her, and she shakes her head in a small and miniscule motion. My eye twitches. Logic, having briefly gotten back in control, goes flying out the window. The bat is swinging once more before I can even consider my actions, catching him in the stomach. I don’t hear any ribs breaking, but the gasping, wheezing noise of air leaving his lungs is music to my ears.

“You son of a **bitch** ,” I snarl. He’s hunched over, once arm protecting his chest, the other reaching towards me. I ready my bat. “Not only do you use some mumbo jumbo contract to trap her into some dom/sub bullshit, but you use that as an excuse to,“ I swing again, glancing off of his shoulder, “ _fucking_ ,” again, bouncing off of his hip, sending him staggering, “RAPE,” again, a downward swing for sure damaging his collar bone, “ **HER**!?!” The bat rockets forward, and with a bone-shattering _snap_ his arm bends at the elbow. But it bends the wrong way. He falls.

I stand above him, breathing hard, feeling like a deliverer of justice. I raise the weapon one more time, slowly to make sure my aim is true, and just before I break his skull open I find myself wrapped in the clutches of a crying Ana. Her face is pressed into my chest, muffling the slew of half-formed words and pleas. I can feel her tears soaking my shirt, and her body is shaking as she is wracked with sobs.

We leave Grey in the hallway and stumble to the couch together. She is pleading with me to stop, to not hurt him anymore, to not give him more ammunition against me. She says that he’ll get back at us, that we can’t stop someone so big, that he could tear us apart and to pieces. Every bit of fear that had build up since this started spills out with her tears. When she’s cried all the tears that she can and the worry has gone with them, I start asking for answers. Finally, after weeks of active lies and lies of omission, do I get the unvarnished truth. She tells me about the NDA and how she felt like she couldn’t say anything because of it, how he had on multiple times steamrolled over her decisions and sexual limits. She tells me about the constant war that she’s been in between fear and desire, and how he can ignite one or the other with just a look or a word. In her own hiccupping, halting words she tells me all of it. It’s only the bear hug grip that she has on me that keeps me from going back for another shot at his unconscious form.

After what feels like hours, she falls asleep and my mind begins to ease from its worry. She’s okay now. She knows what happened and I can help her recover from this.

That did still leave me with the problem of a broken rapist on the floor of our apartment, though, and while he deserved all that and more, I wasn’t sure that I had the grounds to call the cops on him. Maybe if I had stopped at one hit, I could have called the cops and claimed self-defense since he barged in being angry. Hell, if I hadn’t hit him at all I could have probably gotten the cops to throw him out on his ass. I could be looking at some very real consequences here if the police were involved, so I would have to make sure that they didn’t. Somehow. So, I do the only thing I can think of. I make a call.

He picks up on the third ring. “Hey, baby! What’s shakin’?”

“Hey, sweetie. I need you to come to the apartment. There’s been a bit of a disagreement with Christian, and I could use your help getting him out of here.”

“Oh, boy. He bein’ a stubborn ass?”

“Something like that. Just make it fast, before I break his other arm.”

Elliot blows through the door in what normally would be an endearing and heroic manner. He looks disheveled and his eyes hold an air of panic as he first looks me up and down, no doubt checking to see if I have any injuries. He takes in the form of my friend, passed out and snuggling against me, then stills as his eyes shift to the broken form of Christian Grey. He flicks back to me, a question forming on his lips.

“Your brother coerced my roommate into a faux-BDSM relationship under false pretenses during which he repeatedly stalked her, gained access to personal information, kidnapped her, had her sign legal documents while intoxicated, falsified legal documents, emotionally and physically and mentally abused her, seemed to be converting her to alcoholism, stole property, stole money, and raped her. And that is just what I know about.”

In a different context, the way his jaw dropped might be a wonderful confidence boost, but here he just looked like someone had clubbed him.

“So what’s going to happen is this: you are going to take your brother out of here, I am going to get a restraining order on his ass, and if he so much as thinks about my Ana again, I will tear his empire down around his ears and have his name dragged through so much mud that ‘Christian Trevelyan Grey’ will be synonymous with shit.”

Elliot makes several false starts to respond but can’t seem to either come to grips with the reality that is crashing down around him nor put whatever it is that he’s feeling into words. Instead, he just leans down and slings his brother’s unbroken arm across his broad shoulders. The dead weigh causes him to list to the side a bit when he stands, but he shuffles rather steadily towards the door. He opens it quietly and is halfway out when he turns back.

“What…what about us?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to talk for a bit, Elliot. Not until everything gets sorted out. Even then, I think it would be best if you went through my lawyer.”

“Yeah, no. That’s…that’s fair,” he says, voice so soft that I almost don’t hear it cracking at the end. “I guess I’ll just,” his body sags as he sighs, “see you when I see you.” Just before the door closes behind him, I hear one last “laters, baby” and they’re gone. For one of them, hopefully forever.

I know that I should get up and make sure the door is locked, stop my phone from recording and put it on a charger, and either break out some wine or tea – or both –, but instead I shift around beneath my sleeping friend to get comfortable, wrap an arm around her waist, and keep a grip on the bat.

“Maybe you should get out of town for a bit, huh?” I murmur into her soft hair. “Come with me and Ethan down to Barbados for a week or two, get some sun, cut loose.” She’s asleep still, but I keep talking, keep planning. “Get you a cute, regular guy to have a Spring fling with, party a bit, really break down those walls of yours. Shack up in the hotel for a few days of reading and discussion, maybe watch a bad rom-com or two. Hit up a spa, get all that stress massaged out of you by some Caribbean hunk.” It would take a lot more than a quick one-night-stand to get her to feel better, but I know firsthand that sometimes you need to get away from a problem for a bit to gain some perspective. It would be a start, at the very least. We could tackle therapy when we returned. “You need a vacation, hun. And when you get back, you’ll feel like a new woman. I guarantee it.”

Almost as if she can hear me, she smiles. A second later, so do I.

“I’ve got your back, Ana, whenever you need me.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's nice to finally write again. I can't even remember the last time I wrote more than two pages of anything that wasn't a term paper, and while I do sort of wish that my foray back into writing was for a fandom that I actually like, I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Between this and something else I'm working on, my Word document is just shy of twenty pages, and it couldn't have happened without the inspiration of the community at das-sporking (https://das-sporking.livejournal.com/334375.html), whose reviews and teardowns of classic modern literature such as The Mortal Instruments, the Twilight series, and Fifty Shades bring all of the vindication to people that hate them.


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